Skinny Love
by Gemcrow
Summary: WARNING: THIS BOOK DEALS WITH PTSD AND DEPRESSING THEMES. Annabeth struggles in finding herself again after the giant war. It seems as though her essence is gone, leaving a hollow shell in its place. To make matters worse, upon arriving home, she finds her family to be dead. Now she has to deal with a new home and a new family... by the name of Clint Barton.
1. Prologue

**Hullo everybody! Welcome to my new story! Before it begins, Ivwould like to point out:**

 **-I do not own Percy Jackson or Marvel. If I did, we would have a hell of a lot more Stucky and the team** ** _actually facing their feelings!_**

 **-Iam terrible at updating! I haven't updated my other story in over a year. So basically... don't get your hopes up that the next chapter will be posted soon. Or ever.**

 **-The name of the story is inspired by** _ **Birdy's**_ **song,** _ **Skinny love.**_ **I am definitely not creative enough to create a title like that!**

 **-Thenext chapters WILL be a lot longer (at least 1000 words each).**

 **That is all I have to babble about! Have fun reading!**

Annabeth felt numb. That feeling-or lack thereof- was not a new one to Annabeth, but exhausting all the same. Her thoughts and feelings seemed to be muted, as though someone had merely turned off a switch. The problem was, she couldn't figure out how  
/to turn it on again. The switch had vanished along with the essence of herself, leaving a hollow shell behind. And she didn't recognize that shell.

Along with her thoughts, the surroundings that Annabeth saw seemed to dim and... feel fuzzy. Their was an unmistakable pain in her gut that made Annabeth want to scream and yell and throw the _stupid_ blanket that seemed to keep her silent and distant  
/off her damn head. But she couldn't. The blanket wasn't there.

 **Did you guys like it? I know it's very dramatic but I'm a sucker for the feels and drama ;)**

 **Please feel free to leave a comment and tell me your thoughts as long as they are nice. I dislike rude people. Also, feel free to give me HELPFUL criticism. Thank you! Have a nice day! :))**


	2. Chapter One

**WOW! I'm on a writing spree!**

 **I'm really sad because I have to go back to school soon and I just... NO! Why can't I stay inside all day,crying over fictional characters?**

 **Anyways, enough of my rants. Enjoy reading!**

 ****

It was silent when Annabeth got back to her place of residence. Of course, that was to be expected, seeming as it was _half past one_ in the morning. All the other kids and the parents would be asleep. But not her. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight.  
Silently, the young adult crept onto the porch and muffled the sound of picking the lock using her oversized hoodie. With a click of finality, she swung the door open and quietly crept into her shared room, mutely plodding into her bed. It was deafeningly  
still. Nothing moved but the slow breaths of the other girls near her. Everyone had a steady breath. Everyone had their eyes closed in a peaceful manor. Everyone, except her.

The parents thought she was finally sleeping and had gratefully left her alone the next morning. Annabeth supposed it was nice of them but now their was no incentive for her to get out of bed. She tried-she really did- but couldn't seem to move her numbed  
limbs an inch. So she stayed there. Not moving, not eating and hardly breathing.

It wasn't until four days later that she was dragged out of her unmoving hell and into the small kitchen that was covered in soft, bright colors. She crinkled her eyes in distain. It was too bright here, compared to her room. The feeling of the water  
in her eyes made her shift with discomfort. That always came with being in the kitchen. Maybe that's why she had lost her appetite so much.

Agent Phil Coulson turned his head slowly when the kitchen door once again opened, presenting the young foster mother, Alicia, and a girl he had spent hours looking for; Annabeth Chase.  
She was pretty looking girl, ignoring her wild, unbrushed, curly hair and the non too appealing sweats she had on. Although Annabeth looked like a typical, groggy teenager who had woken up too early, their was an element to her that made Phil frown. Stormy  
grey eyes appeared to be empty and barren. A gaunt, unseeing face seemed to be peering around the kitchen with a perplexed look. Like she didn't quite know where she was.  
Finally, her eyes fell upon Coulson, instantly hardening with a guarded glare. He blinked, not used to someone so young presenting themselves like a soldier. Coulson quickly regained his neutral attitude at that thought, calmly reaching his hand out to  
meet hers.  
"Hullo, Annabeth, I'm Agent Phil Coulson," he greeted her with a cheery smile, trying to break the kid out of her shell. "I am very sorry for your losses."  
She stared, her hand limply being held in his until he gently dropped it. A startled jump came from her as though she for got where she was. An awkward silence surrounded the room.

Her brain felt as though someone had electrocuted it pass it's limit, leaving her with a sluggish feeling and thoughts that couldn't seem to process anything. She glanced back to the agent's eyes, suddenly realizing how long she had been standing there.  
"Annabeth. Annabeth Chase. But you already knew that," she replied with a hoarse and crackled voice. She tried to remember how she used to get information subtly from an unknown person. It felt like it had been years since she had dome it. In reality,  
however, it had merely been a month.  
The peculiar man smiled at her, starting abruptly into a conversation. "I'm from the government. I'm here because new information has been found and it seems as though you have an uncle that can take you in."  
She frowned at this, not quite processing the information. " I already know I have an uncle that's still living- Uncle Randolph- but he already said that he can't provide accommodations for me. Something about being too busy with my cousin."  
Another smile came her way. Gentle, almost sympathetic. A ball of fury rose in Annabeth's stomach. She was not a weak young girl.  
"I know about Randolph. I'm talking about your other uncle."  
Annabeth quickly retorted, becoming impatient with the conversation. "I don't have another uncle, only an aunt but she died."  
"I know, Annabeth. You seem to have another uncle, however. He has been working in the government for quite a long time- that's probably why you haven't heard of him before." He stopped for a moment, giving Annabeth some time to process this new information.  
It seemed very unlikely that she had another uncle- so why would someone claim she did? At that thought, her mind started to work furiously, producing a variety of ideas (non too simple). The most probable one was that he was a monster, disguised  
as a human (in order to gain her trust), and would bring her to one of her enemies. Which one, she didn't know. A likely one, however, would be someone from Tartarus. Someone who was very upset that she escaped with her life. Although, if he wasn't  
a monster and she attacked or refused to come, she would be in big trouble. After all, he said he was a government official.  
Concluding her thoughts, Annabeth chose her next words carefully. "And why have you come to tell me about this?"  
The man- no, agent- blinked at her voice, startled by her sudden words. "He has already agreed to take you. He lives in New York City, with some of his teammates."  
"Okay, when do I leave?" Came Annabeth's clipped response.  
"He is actually waiting outside, so as soon as you pack you will be going." Annabeth's posture tensed at this. It was all too sudden and very convenient, too convenient. They had certainly planned this out carefully.  
Annabeth tried to hide her unease by nodding her head and quickly going upstairs to pack her belongings. She wasn't concerned about making them wait, she only had a small amount of items, and would pack quickly. Then, she would meet her so called 'uncle'.  
 **Did you like it?**

 **In the next chapter, Annabeth will definitely be meeting the Avengers! And hopefully some action will occur!**

 **Anyways, I would love it if you would review or whatever. Thx:))**


	3. Chapter Two

**Hey guys! Here's chapter two! I really hope you guys enjoy it!**

Chapter 2

Clint was nervous. Of course, it was only natural for him to be pacing up and down the small, front deck. After all, he was just about to meet his long lost niece who he only heard about two days ago. Yes, it was perfectly normal for him to be... freaking out. But, he wasn't a normal person. He was a world renown assassin and member of a team of mighty super heroes. He should not be acting this way. If anything, his behavior right now was abnormal.

With that thought, Clint quickly straightened his posture and halted his pacing, trying to look a slight bit presentable for his niece. Just in time for the front door handle click and for the door to swing open.

Annabeth felt her back straighten to become as rigid as a board. The mysterious agent had led her to the front door and was now slowly turning the handle.

When Annabeth stepped out, she saw a man of average height, bulging muscles, and a plain t-shirt. He startled suddenly, looking straight in her eyes. A few, silent moments deafened the two unaccustomed family members until the archer broke the silence with an awkward cough.

"Uh, hi. I'm-er- your uncle," he started, with a rough voice.

Annabeth gave a forced smile in reply, following him as he led her to an official, government looking car.

And they were off.

Overall, the flight had a thick atmosphere to it; causing both Clint and Annabeth to shift uneasily in their cushioned seats. The agent, however, seemed unperturbed by the situation, causing a content aura to radiate off of him. He was snuggled in the corner of the jet with a printed pillow of the American flag.

The ride from the airport to her new place of residence was a blur. By then, Annabeth had no more energy to be alert, to proactively be nervous about her situation with Clint.

She had simply given up by then.

Looking out the window, all Annabeth saw were blurs of colors and shattered memories that seemed to abrade her bare skin mercilessly. Goosebumps involuntarily rose up against her thick sweatshirt, fighting against the cloth as if it was tortuously confining her; breaking her wings and preventing her from flying.

But she would never fly again.

She had already lost her wings.

And they weren't coming back.

Stuttering shivers erupted from her body with that thought, causing both Clint and the driver to look at her, a curious expression written across their faces.

Eyebrows pinched.

Eyes squinted.

Body.. leaning towards her; subconsciously.

Annabeth frowned at this, not understanding their actions. The skill to fathom emotions had fallen out of her the day she fell. Twisting, decreasing dramatically, as the air turned acidic and blazed dangerously.

Poisonous.

Barbarous.

Corrupt.

Malevolent.

Wr-

STOP! She couldn't go any further with her line of thoughts, she couldn't.

Annabeth looked around her, the surroundings changing dramatically from the bare vehicle to... an elevator.

Her heart started to erupt under her chest.

Eyes pinched shut.

Hands trembling.

Breath short.

Chest tight.

And suddenly, they were out again, facing a considerable, decorative, room.

Sweeping curtains that were from ceiling to floor.

A deep, gray rug.

Luxurious leather couches.

And, five people sitting on said couches.

"Hi, guys," Clint greeted as he exited the elevator, shuffling from foot to foot. He glanced down at the girl slightly behind him and pursed his lips. She had that vacant, detached, emotionless face present. Her eyes seemed clouded, like she was physically in the tower but mentally, she was a somewhere much different.

Annabeth's posture once again straightened to a military-soldier-worthy posture. Instantly, her eyes feverishly scanned the room for any threats, unspoken dangers. A frown formed upon her features once her analysis of the room was finished and she had landed on the small group. Each of them presented a guarded posture that was only gained from facing dangerous elements.

They were experienced.

And that meant they were dangerous.

"Hi," Annabeth announced, underlying trepidation hinted in her tone.

 _She must not show weakness._

"I'm Annabeth."

 _No weakness._

A pregnant pause resonated throughout the affluential room.

Nobody spoke, just stared. That is, until Clint once again cleared his throat.

He must have a HELL of a lot of snot trapped in there Annabeth scrutinized. This is the tenth time today.

"Why don't you guys introduce yourselves to my niece."

A blond, muscular man quickly came to, standing abruptly and walking over to Annabeth, determination expressed in his features.

Annabeth flinched.

This halted the strange man, but only for a second, before he continued towards her and gently grabbed her hand. "Name's Steve Rodgers. It's nice to meet you, kid."

Annabeth, once again, flinched.

Each person in the group softened their expressions to a pleasant look, quickly following Steve's lead.

"Bruce Banner."

"Bucky- just Bucky."

"Natasha Romonhov."

"Tony Stark- but you probably know me better as Iron Man," the man exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

Again, furrowed eyebrows were bestowed upon Annabeth.

"Who?"

With that question, all background mutters of conversation stopped to stare at the girl. Looks of utter disbelief etched in their faces.

"How do you not know who we are?" Inquired a voice behind her.

Annabeth spun to look straight into her uncle's eyes. "What do you mean?" She questioned, defense in her voice.

"We saved the world. Remember? Crazy aliens that invaded New York. Blues energy weapons? Ugly ass faces?" The man- Tony- questioned, taking a step closer with each question.

"Tony, give the girl some space," came the exasperated voice of Steve Rodgers, as he started to push Tony back.

"But-" Tony sputtered. "How do you not know who we are? It only happened a couple months ago, not long enough for someone to forget."

"I was away," was Annabeth's clipped reply before spinning round to face Clint. "Where will I be sleeping? I'd like to go put my stuff away."

"Oh! Right! Follow me!" Her uncle exclaimed as he leapt up, towards the hallway to the right. "Lets go pick your room."

 **I know, I know. Kinda boring, but this is a filler chapter. I'll try really hard to make the next one more interesting!**

 **I** **hope you guys have great day! Please comment and review!**

 **Thx:))**


	4. Chapter Three

**Hello my friends! ''Tis I! Finally here (after a year) with an update.**

 **I'm super sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy it!**

She unpacked fairly quickly, only giving herself moments of thought before briskly going about her given tasks. She finished much too quickly for her liking and found herself awkwardly sitting on her bed with her hands tucked into her sides.

Everything appeared to be still and quiet. Except, for Annabeth, the silence felt like a deafening voice that incessantly pounded at her skull.

When she tried to disperse the silence by humming a half forgotten song, the pounding in her head only seemed to increase. She was all too aware of the way that her t-shirt was perched on her shoulders and her pants clinging to her thighs. She was all too aware of the light that was being emitted from the lamp by her bed, sending more tears to her eyes. She was all too aware of every second inching by, unforgivingly. She was all too aware that everything kept going around her while she seemed to be frozen in one moment.

While everything else replayed over, and over, and over again.

Finally, it stopped. Everything stopped.

The noisy silence had ceased, her clothes were no longer suffocating her, and the light had seemingly dimmed. In its place stood her uncle.

Clint regarded the small teenager in her bed, waiting for her to notice his presence.

It took longer than expected.

For a timid girl, she wasn't always observant.

"Hello," Annabeth greeted when she finally looked towards the doorway.

"Hi, Annabeth," Clint replied, casually leaning against the doorframe. "You've been in here a while. I was wondering if you would like to come hang out with the team while we wait for dinner to arrive?"

Truthfully, Annabeth thought that the idea sounded rather horrendous but forced a smile on her face.

"Sorry but I'm not that hungry and super tired. I think I'm going to go to bed early tonight," Annabeth replied, slowly standing to give Clint a hint that she would rather be alone.

He nodded, after a moment's pause, and softly closed the door.

It was a torturous night that didn't ever seem to pass. Seconds were like minutes, hours like days. It was a completely different concept of time, in the dead of night. As if... as if she was back there. But this time she was helpless to stop the endless charade of darkness that froze the time like a spider's web freezes in winter.

And so, Annabeth lay there. Not moving, not blinking, and hardly breathing.

It was just before dawn and the first inklings of light were breaking from New York's skyline. Annabeth stood in front of a window, quietly observing the signs of a new day. She had been standing there for what felt like seconds but, in reality, were hours. Her feet had long since passed the stage of numb but she could not seem to find the willpower to move. Her bed reminded her of him too much; and memories were painful.

She was so deep in thought that she startled when a warm hand was felt on her shoulder.

"What are you doing up so early?"

That question echoed in her mind as if trying to find the deepest, darkest secrets that not even she knew.

 _"What are you doing up so early?"_

 _"What are you doing up so early?"_

What was she doing up so early?

"I... dunno," came her simple reply before turning to face him.

It appeared as though she wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten any sleep that night. Clint stood in front of her with disheveled hair, an old, stained shirt and dark purple bags under his eyes that may have suggested more than just one night of restlessness. Stubble was splattered across his chin and cheeks. Oddly enough, he adorned one neon pink sock on his foot that had the word _Queen_ imprinted on it.

He regarded Annabeth slowly, eyes roving up and down as if trying to find the source of... well, Annabeth wasn't sure what he was looked my for.

As if reading her thoughts, he startled slightly before looking her in the eyes and giving her a crooked smile. "Well, since we're both up, do you want to come help me make breakfast?"

Annabeth returned the smile after a moment's hesitation, giving the confirmation Clint needed to lead the way.

Despite Annabeth's previous awkward interactions with her uncle, they worked in a companionable silence. Clint methodically gathered the ingredients needed while she started the eggs. The silence was not as alarming as Annabeth usually found it to be, putting her at ease and slowly helping her relax into the space.

Sooner than both Annabeth and Clint would have anticipated, they found themselves sat across from each other, slowly starting their breakfast.

"So, where did you go on holiday?" The pause shattered the silence that surrounded them, startling Annabeth slightly as she remembered she wasn't alone. After moments of digesting his question all she could do as a reply was to furrow her eyebrows.

"You said that you were away when Tony asked you why you didn't know him. I just assumed-".

Annabeth widened her eyebrows in realisation. "Oh! Yeah, yes, of course. Greece. I went to Greece with my friends."

"Oh, I see." The pregnant pause that followed was a stark contrast to the silence earlier.

"What did Tony mean when he said that you guys were fighting? When I was away, I mean," Annabeth elaborated.

"Oh! I'm surprised you haven't heard anything about it. The news broadcasted it everywhere," Clint started but before he could evade the question further, Annabeth leaned forward.

"Well, it's a long story, really."

"I've got time."

By the time the rest of the Avengers found the two, Clint had told the full story of the battle, even describing what had led to it. To his upmost satisfaction, Clint had even managed to coax a small smile from Annabeth when he recounted the famous quote "He's adopted" from Thor.

They were so busy in their discussion (that had somehow transitioned to the legendary dropbears) that they did not notice Steve arrive, slightly disheveled but otherwise neat, from his run.

"- and then, I said that their were some in the water and he screamed so loud! He tried to get to the shore, but fell flat on his face. He was blowing sand out of his nose for weeks!" This provoked a choked laugh from Clint, spraying some of his coffee on the table. A startled yelp escaped Annabeth's mouth and she leaped up from her chair to avoid the aftermath.

Steve snorted at this, finally gaining the attention from the two family members who both whipped their heads in his direction.

"Mornin'."


	5. Chapter Four

**Bonjour mon amis! Before it starts, I would just like to thank you guys so much for the amazing comments that you have written me! It has made me so happy and motivated to write more. You guys really are (aka you guys are cool).**

 **Anyways, I hope you all are having a lovely week filled with the adventure that rivals these heroes.**?

Like a switch, Annabeth's posture straightened, her head snapping up with a cold and calculating look. Steve was once again struck with surprise from the young adult; the intensity of her guarded glare could have rivalled Natasha's.

Annabeth, on the other hand, felt herself go alarmingly numb far too quickly. She could tell that her breaths were coming at a quicker rate and her palms were sweating, but she couldn't bring herself to care. It was like she was observing someone else's body altogether. Her movements were no longer her own; all she could do was watch as she further straightened her stance to look bigger. Her vision tunnelled until the kitchen and Clint disappeared, leaving her with Steve.

Clint's eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene, glancing at Steve for confirmation that it was, indeed, happening. Similarly to him, Steve's eyes had widened tenfold. Several moments passed with quiet, hopefully calming breathing from the two of them, before Steve slowly reached behind him, finding a chair to sit on.

Clint immediately understood what he was doing; often, on missions, the team encountered hostages who would scare easily. The best way to gain trust was to make themselves as least threatening as possible.

True enough, the two watched as Annabeth's shoulders relaxed slightly and the steely panic that had gripped her body lesson, allowing her eyes to become clearer and more focused. The progress continued quickly until there was no trace, leaving behind that ever so familiar guarded look. If they hadn't known any better, they would have thought that they had imagined the situation entirely.

Annabeth, on the other hand, could still feel the haunting, ghostly fist that grappled desperately towards her heart;

Her lungs,

Her arms,

Her legs,

Her _being_.

Slowly sucking the life out of her like a leech.

Slowly spreading steadily to the only place that Annabeth has left that was entirely her own.

Slowly leeching away that light that she had promised to keep kindled.

Reaching, grasping, clutching, seizing-

"How'd you sleep?" Her own voice jarred her quickly descending thoughts that weren't quite her own, allowing her to focus back on the room.

Steve furrowed her eyebrows, looking down at her before slowly speaking in a soft and soothing voice that did wonders to thaw her steely facade.

"Fine, thank you. How long have you two been up?"

Clint slowly glanced at Annabeth and winked, the corners of his smile turns upwards. "Oh, not too long at all- in fact, we had just started an enthralling conversation before you showed up."

Steve's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Oh?"

And, just like that, the three found themselves in a light and easy conversation, gradually increasing the size of the group as each Avenger trickled out of their rooms and into the kitchen.

Several days passed in similar succession and, despite Annabeth's best efforts, she found herself slowly warming to the misfit family. She quickly found that for a group of highly famous superheroes and assassins, they really were rather relaxed.

Every morning found Annabeth in the kitchen, always greeted by at least one member of the team- no matter the time. Once everybody was awake (or at least fairly resembled the state of consciousness), they would have breakfast together. Annabeth quickly learnt that Tony was absolutely hopeless at cooking, no matter the simplicity of the meal. In fact, Annabeth found herself awoken on her seventh day to a burning kitchen and high pitched squealing that resembled a giant pig she'd once encountered (don't ask). The rest of the day was spent trying to rid four floors of the ghastly smell of burnt waffles and rubber.

It was several days after the incident, at the breakfast table, that Annabeth thought of an important question.

"When will I be going back to school?" The simple question made everyone jump at the table slightly, not entirely used to her presence.

Clint's, who was sitting next to her, eyes widened in alarm. "Wh... Oh! How in the nine realms is it possible that, in a tower full of adults, not one of us thought about the prospect of school?"

Steve blanched at that, setting down his fork and staring at Clint as though he had personally offended his pet bald eagles. "I thought the papers were processing at the school."

Blankly staring at him, Clint replied "What paperwork?"

Steve merely sighed before gathering some of the empty plates and bringing them to the kitchen. Bucky soon followed and, after a moment of fairly uncomfortable shuffling, Annabeth with a handful of dirty cutlery.

"The paperwork that Coulson sent as soon as he was in contact with Annabeth's foster parents," Steve hollered back.

"Again, what paperwork?"

Annabeth quickly decided that Natasha had some sort of secret power that her uncle had neglected to tell her about. In one afternoon, not only did she manage to find the paperwork and get in contact with the school, but also managed to successfully enrol her, which allowed Annabeth to promptly start next week.

Annabeth's dumbfound face did nothing to prompt Natasha to spill her secrets. She merely cocked an eyebrow before giving her a crooked smirk. "Us girls have to look after each other when we're surrounded by these morons."

Tony perked his head up from behind the couch at the remark. "I'll have you know that I have the highest IQ here! And besides, I can kick you out of my tower any time I want, so you better watch what you say!"

Bucky, who was walking past Tony towards the kitchen, rolled his eyes dramatically in his direction. "Please. We all know that Pepper's the one who practically owns this place."

Annabeth snorted.

It was important to Annabeth that she state that she most definitely didn't always have nightmares. Nope, not at all, that would be ridiculous.

However, when she did, it wasn't always about that place, either. Sometimes it was filled with spiders... everywhere. Other times, she would be battling a run of the mill monster but everything went wrong. She was too slow and the monster would be too quick and... kill her. Or she'd be distracted and stupid. Other times, it was just a violent mirage of faces of the dead; some that she'd let down and others that she barely even knew.

Tonight was no different. As soon as her head hit the pillow, her dreams were filled with gruesome images of when she had held up the sky for days. Except, this time, Percy never came. This time, it was only Luke and when she tried to reach out for help, his eyes turned that nauseating gold that made her blood run cold. This time, she was forced to watch as Kronos killed him and then slowly turned towards her. This time, Annabeth didn't walk away. And that terrified her.


	6. Chapter Five

**Hello lovely people.! Thank you again for the amazingcomments that you all have left. It really truly makes my week and motivates me to write more! I love you guys so much!**

 **Anyways, get ready! Make a snack! This chapter is a long one!**

Annabeth knew from the very moment she woke up that it was going to be one of her Bad Days. Her whole body felt sore and weary, yet still restless, as if she had been fighting all night. Her limbs were heavy and a cottony feeling filled her mouth. She felt like the embodiment of Hades.  
/

Waves of unease crashed over herself at the thought of getting through the day. She just couldn't shake the thought that something was going to happen. Something bad.

 _No._

She would _not_ give into the Bad Day.

And yet, she felt the slimy trundles of darkness start forward, slowly progressing onto the battlefield of her mind to claim her sanity. She knew what was about to happen all too well. It would slowly circle around her like a predator before constricting  
her mind, her body, her entire being; squeezing and wrenching until there was nothing left but that malicious _parasite_.

Through the haze of the thoughts, Annabeth felt her adrenaline spike and her ADHD start to act up, making her fumble for the dagger she always kept in her waistband, preparing for a threat that was never there. She grasped towards her pocket only to grab  
at the folds of fabric. Where-

 _No._

 _Stop._

 _Calm down._

Annabeth breathed several deep breaths (albeit a bit too fast), closing her eyes in a vain attempt to re-centre herself.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest, as if fighting against her very self, instead of the invisible threats that consumed her.

It took several minutes, of standing stock still, ramrod straight, in the hallway before Annabeth could continue her trek to the kitchen.

However, for someone who was the key definition of hyper vigilance, Annabeth really wasn't very aware of her surroundings.

In fact, it wasn't until she fumbled for her cup of coffee, drank the whole cup, and filled it again that she realised that the dining room was already filled with the majority of the avengers, gathered around the table eating.

An assortment of breakfast foods littered the table along with wrinkled papers that Annabeth could only assume was Tony or Bruce's.

"Morning, Annabeth," Clint chirped through a mouthful of eggs.

"Mmph," Annabeth grunted in reply, only just managing to surprise her yelp of surprise. She collapsed onto a free chair and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

Moments later, Clint moved to sit across, looking at her questioningly.

"Didn't sleep well?"

"Mmph," came her tired reply.

Silence ensued until a clank sounded in front, startling her from her lazing state.

Bucky smiled at her with underlying emotions that Annabeth couldn't quite identify. "Here, you look like a twig who is one foot away from snapping."

Eggs sat in front of her peppered with cheese and a selection of peppers. She looked up in surprise, a somewhat feeble smile spreading across her face as a thanks before she quickly dug in.

"Have any good dreams?" Her uncle questioned gently, making her once again look up. Similar to Bucky, his eyes held those mysterious underlying emotions.

She wanted to tell him. Wanted to spew every struggle from her willing mouth. Wanted someone to comfort her and help her and _love_ her. And yet, almost subconsciously, she found herself softly saying "fine".

Sometimes, usually on her Bad Days, Annabeth's stomach wouldn't settle. It would rebel against the gnawing emptiness that accompanied her most days yet fight against anything that passed her lips. She should have known, coming down in the morning, to  
skip breakfast. Should have known that it would just make her feel worse, and yet, when Bucky had placed the food down in front of her, she hadn't thunk.

 _But that's your problem_ , she thought bitterly. _You never think and it gets people hurt. It gets people killed._

She didn't deserve a second chance. She didn't deserve their kindness, especially when she knew it was simply out of pity; not care or compassion or anything else. That was okay, it really was. But it wasn't okay for her to take advantage of it, to feed  
off of it like a leech.

Maybe that's all she was good for, though.

Leeching off people's lives.

And so, Annabeth sat there in the bathroom. Not thinking, not feeling, and hardly breathing. And she hated the way she was acting. She hated herself. So fully and so extensively that she lost herself in it; The mindless maze of darkness and dread and  
loneliness and hatred. Of loathing and nausea and numbness. She didn't think she'd ever get out again.

Clint knocked nervously on Annabeth's door, listening keenly for any clues of movement. He furrowed his eyebrows when a small mown could be heard from inside.

"Annabeth?" Silence. "If you don't answer the door I'm going to invite myself in."

Few seconds passed before Clint looked towards the ceiling with a _lord give me strength_ sort of expression and entered the room.

It was dark in there- abnormally so. All the curtains were drawn and further blankets were stuffed into the cracks. A pile of books lay haphazardly next to the bedside table but besides that, it was meticulously clean. Nothing lay out of place and gave  
the entire room the impression of a hotel. Clint frowned slightly, further entering the room for a better view.

No pictures or personal items lay around the room. No objects or

knick-knacks or toys. In fact, the room looked practically the same as when it was just spare room, if he could ignore the fact that Annabeth had managed to make it darker than a vacuum.

Something glinted under Annabeth's pillow, looking suspiciously like a hilt of some sort of weapon. Clint made to investigate but a small hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What are you doing here?" Clint spun around, coming face to face with his niece. Her voice sounded resigned and scratchy, encouraging Clint to further inspect her face.

Dark circles framed her stormy expression that contrasted her pale face greatly. In fact, all colour seemed to have drained her face. The silence stretched on with Annabeth's cold and calculating look being the only indication of communication. He startled,  
remembering her question.

"I was just checking on you. I mean," he elaborated, "we haven't heard a thing from you in hours."

His niece's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Uh, yes. I'm perfectly fine. I was just taking a nap."

Clint's own eyes furrowed suspiciously. It wouldn't take a world-class spy to know she was lying. "You sure you're all right?"

At Annabeth's sharp nod, Clint sir pressed his sigh. "All right then. How 'bout we go beat Steve and Bucky at some Mario Cart."

Clint was relieved to see the traces of a smile stretch across her face.

That night, the team sat together, littered round the dining room table long after Annabeth had excused herself to bed. Half empty wine glasses littered the table along with scattered science papers that looked too important to be laying there haphazardly.

Natasha sat near him with her bare feet lain across Clint's lap, her usual cool facade finally fading. The rest of the team was murmuring softly to each other, their easy conversation contributing to the light atmosphere.

In the centre of it all sat Clint, rubbing his forehead exasperatedly, a stark contrast to his surroundings.

"I'm worried about Annabeth." His rough voice sliced through the air, cutting off the quiet voices surrounding him. "I mean, she just seems so..."

"Removed?" Natasha supplied with a cocked brow, sliding up in her seat to sit straighter.

"Yeah, I've noticed it too," Steve started. "I mean, remember the encounter in the kitchen a few days ago when I startled her? It was almost like she-"

"Was defending herself from an attack," Clint finished, roughly grabbing the closest wine bottle. "It was like she wasn't there anymore, like you were someone else... and I don't know what to do!"

Clint's voice steadily increased in pace and in volume as he suddenly stood up and started to pace. "She just seems so closed off and I don't want to scare her but I wanna know what has happened. I mean her parents were _murdered_!"

"Something tells me that she's hiding something," Bruce supplied.

Clint frowned. "I'm pretty sure she's innocent, Bruce. I don't know why you would say that."

His eyes widened in alarm. "No no no. That's not what I meant. I was just implying that she's hiding something that's troubling her."

"But if she won't even tell us how she truthfully feels, how are we supposed to find out?"

"With time and patience," came Bucky's soft reply. "That's all you can ever give."


	7. Chapter Six

**Hello again, wonderful people (or aliens, I won't judge). I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Warning forswear words, but not too many are used.**

The letter came the next day. And to think, Annabeth was having such a good day.  
/

She woke up having one of the better nights of sleep in months, feeling wonderfully refreshed. When coming down for breakfast, she was happily surprised to see her favourite meal;  
style="font-size: 16pt; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"pancakes with strawberries. Afterwards, Clint, Steve, and Bucky offered to go for a walk with her in Central Park. They spent a full day there, slowly walking through the paths and watching the variety of people that passed them.  
style="font-size: 16pt; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;" 

However, this fortunate spell came to an abrupt halt when FRIDAY's cool voice broke the easy conversation at dinner.

"Excuse me, but there seems to be a letter for Annabeth that was just dropped off."

Everyone turned to look at her with varying degrees of surprise but non more so than Tony.

"Seriously? A letter? What is this, the medieval times?" Annabeth blushed in response, fidgeting slightly under the intense stares.

"Maybe it's from Annabeth's foster family," Steve supplied helpfully while standing up. "I'll go get it from downstairs."

"Thanks, Steve," Annabeth smiled towards the captain.

It didn't take long for Steve to come back and sooner than Annabeth would've expected, she was holding it loosely in her hands.

The address was a sloppy scrawl that took Annabeth several long minutes to even decipher, getting a gallop of her heart when finally understanding. It was from her uncle Randolf. Why on earth would he be contacting her?

Carefully, Annabeth tore open the envelope, steeling her gaze in a vain attempt to ready itself for it's contents.

 _Your cousin, Magnus, has died. Murdered by someone. Working on the logistics now._

 _Don't come._

 _Randolph._

Annabeth felt the blood drain from her face as she abruptly stood up and fumbled to put down her napkin.

Shit shit _shit._

This could not be happening. It was over, they promised her it was over.

It had to be over.

She couldn't have let another person die because of her.

 _No._

Her thoughts swirled viciously in her mind, setting her body on autopilot towards her room.

She had to go. Had to go help.

It was her fault.

Her fault.

 _Her fault!_

She was so deep in her panic, in her hysteria, that she didn't realise anyone had followed her until a hand clamped her shoulder.

Annabeth whirled around violently, grappling for her dagger that she had stupidly left under her pillow this morning.

Stupid stupid _stupid._

It had killed one of the last of her family members and now it was finally coming for her. And, like an idiot, she was completely unprepared.

Quickly, expertly, Annabeth widened her stance and held her hands up, clasped tightly into fists. If they wanted her dead, they would have to work for it.

She _wasn't_ going down without a fight.

"-nnabeth! Annabeth! _Annabeth!"_

Gasping violently, her vision cleared, the bed, the wall, _her uncle_ coming into view.

"Wh-what?" The shaky words left her mouth before she could properly compose herself. All at once, she became too aware of her surroundings; her heavy breathing and rapid heart, the sweat pooling at her forehead and the taught muscles in her legs. Her uncle's heavy breathing, his furrowed brow, his gentle but firm hands holding her small figure still.

Holding her still.

 _Holding her still._

Annabeth gasped again as the second wave of panic hit her like a sledgehammer. He was holding her still, keeping her still and she wouldn't be able to escape. She wouldn't be able to see her other uncle, to help. She wouldn't be able to  
style="font-style: italic; font-size: 16pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;"get awayand holy Hera, couldn't he understand that she was putting them all in danger?

"Nonononono," she started to chant, pushing against the hold in a vain attempt to get out. They didn't understand, they needed to understand. They needed to know that they were in danger and she needed to go!

With that thought, she started to struggle even harder, kicking in alarm.

She needed them to understand!

"No, Clint you don't get it!" She exclaimed between her heavy pants. "I need to go, I need to go!" Her voice was steadily rising in pitch and part of her wanted it to stop because  
style="font-style: italic; font-size: 16pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;"she was acting like a child, but a greater, more instinctual part of her drowned it out.

She had to go had to go had to go-

"-Annabeth, Annabeth! You have to tell us what's wro-"

-had to go had to go had to go!

"-come on, Annabeth. You've got to-"

-had to go had to go _had to go!_

Suddenly, slight sting blossomed across her cheek, making her blink in surprise.

"- _Annabeth!_ Have I got your attention?" Questioned an oddly authoritative tone from her uncle.

She nodded owlishly.

A sigh escaped his mouth, taking some of the tension from his shoulders with it. "Good. Now I need you to slow down and-"

"He's dead! He's dead and I need to go! I need to go help him! I nee-"

"-Annabeth! Slow down and listen. You don't need to do anything right now, _not a thing,"_  
style="font-size: 16pt; -webkit-font-kerning: none;"her uncle started, still maintaining his firm tone. "But what you should do is slow down your breathing."

She blinked blankly at him. She didn't understand.

As if reading her thoughts, Clint gently relinquished his hold on her shoulder and guided her hands to his chest. "You're breathing too quickly, sweety. Now, all I want you to do is concentrate on breathing at the same time as me. Okay? Like this," he started, exaggerating his inhale and exhale. "You've got it, try it with me now."

Annabeth nodded, before slowly attempting to banish the panic from her body. After several minutes, her wild heart started to slow and a wave of fatigue crashed over her. She felt herself start to lean on Clint and she knew she should care, should stop because he wouldn't want her so close but her body was too tired- she was too tired. And so, with a last burst of energy, she managed to mumble "I'm sorry" before sleep encompassed her.

Clint blinked in surprise as he found Annabeth slumped towards him. This was the first time ever that he had been able to touch Annabeth.

Frowning slightly, he looked up from his position on the floor to find the rest of his team- his family- cautiously gathered in the room. All wore expressions of sadness and absolute horror and despite the situation at hand, Clint felt comfort erupt from his chest to see that the rest of them had already grown to love this fractured teen. They had all readily welcomed her into their misfit familyeithout question.

Steve gave Clint a concerned, questioning glance and Clint could not help but feel helplessness bloom around him; he was absolutely clueless to what had just unfolded.

However, it seemed as though Tony was finally living up to his genius title, as he quickly passed over to Clint the long forgotten letter.

"Someone named Randolph contacted her saying that her cousin was murdered."

Bruce's eyes were the first to widen in alarm as he quickly glanced over towards the sleeping teen curled up tightly into Clint's side.

"Another one?"


	8. Chapter Seven

**Hello friends! Have I ever mentioned how much your comments make me smile? If not, then who do I think I am? You guys are all so lovely, funny and supportive and I am always floored by how supportive you all are. Thank you so so much! You really do motivate me to write more (even if I haven't updated in 6 months, oops).**

 **This chapter is, again, a filler so I'm sorry you've had to wait six months for a filler but I'm really hoping to have the next chapter up soon.**

 **Anyways I hope you like it!**

To say Annabeth was embarrassed would be the understatement of the century. No, not the century; of all time.

She had freaked out in front of everybody. It wasn't even a small freak out- no, she had completely lost her mind. It would have been worse enough if it occurred in front of strangers, but, contrarily, it was with people she was living with. And she couldn't avoid people she was living with forever.

Logically, Annabeth knew that the best way to cure the unpleasant situation at hand would be to emerge from the confines of her room and show the others that she was, in fact, not crazy. However, the familiar vice on her mind was still clamped tightly shut, creating a dark haze that made it practically impossible to do anything more taxing than blinking sluggishly towards the ceiling.

After so many hours that had accumulated staring at a ceiling, Annabeth would have thought that the ceiling would've lost it's entertainment value, but it seemed as though the opposite had occurred. And so, just like every time it happened, she'd have to wait.

It took her three hours to drag herself from the confines of her bed and into the shower, as if in desperate attempt to wash off the thick grime of shame that coated her body. And, in that shocking wave of cool that pounded her body, a sudden clarity washed over her.

Magnus had died. No- was murdered. And if Annabeth had previously had any sense of comfort in her mind before, it was all erased when she realised why all this damage continued to follow in her wake. Through all her years of fighting, just to survive, she had made enemies; too many to count. So it was only logical to assume that one of these enemies had finally realised that she no longer cared about what happened to herself. It would no longer create the rightful revenge they wanted to hurt her. No, the only thing that was still motivating her to fight, to continue her movement, was the very few people she had left. So, it really was only logical to think that the only way to hurt her was to hurt those closest to her. After all, it had already been proven to work with her dad.

Which brought her perfectly onto her next point. By continuing to stay with her uncle, she was endangering them all. It would really only be a matter of time before they were all hurt because of her, or realised the harm she caused and push her away themselves. And, although it was kinda a big deal that she had- well- had a fit in front of everyone, it wasn't like the damage she caused couldn't be reversed. She would just act normal from now on, boringly so. Be so extremely ordinary, so routinely, that the small group of misfits would eventually loose interest with her; they would forget about her so entirely from her lack of individuality and engagement that she would finally be left to her own devices. Left alone. Thus making it that much easier to disappear from them altogether.

By the time her rather self detrimental thoughts slowed enough for her to get dressed, breakfast had been and gone. Lunch was steadily approaching.

Despite the clarity from her mind, the determination and persistence that had been missing since the war, Annabeth couldn't help but nervously twirl her foot as she got the courage to get up. She couldn't understand why her mind was still in a frenzied state, hours after she had had the news about her cousin. She couldn't understand _why on earth_ her heart was still beating way too fast to be normal. She couldn't understand why she couldn't make her body behave, stop. She had faced far worse than an awkward lunch with her uncle and his friends, and yet, her body was acting like she was _down there_ again. Stupid body. Stupid Gods.

Using the burst of anger and hatred to her advantage, Annabeth heaved herself up into standing position and, quickly enough that she wouldn't have time to chicken out, she made her way to the dining room.

It was oddly quiet, oddly discontent, when Annabeth entered the room. Everybody was there, sat around the table, but the only sound came from the occasional shift of someone in their chair. No food was on the table, which Annabeth noted was unusual for a group of people with enhanced metabolisms and muscles for days. The only thing that resembled the normality that Annabeth was used to was the giant coffee cup clutched in Tony's hands.

Despite her many years of stealth, it seemed as though she would never be able to sneak past the group unnoticed. As soon as she was in seeing range of them, eyes snapped towards her, looking her up and down with a ferocity that she didn't think possible for someone who wasn't a monster that wanted to eat her.

A wave of nerves flooded her but she managed to calm her breathing and continue her walk to the kitchen.

"Mornin'," she greeted casually, grabbing a pear from the counter before claiming the remaining chair. With the continued silence, she looked up from the sticker she was attempting to unpeel to meet the eyes of Clint's questioning and concerned gaze. Despite his best efforts to provoke her to talk, Annabeth merely raised her eyebrow before continuing her task.

She heard him clear his throat before shifting uneasily, sucking a breath in before releasing it again. Several moments passed before the same process repeated. Annabeth sighed heavily and opened her mouth to question the behaviour of the man but was interrupted when a soft voice from next to her asked "How are you feelin'?".

Despite her best efforts, Annabeth startled slightly from the unexpected voice from beside her. She turned slightly to see that it was Bucky, carrying the same damned expression that her uncle was still fixing her with from across the table.

"Fine, absolutely fine."


	9. Chapter Eight

Several days passed in similar succession of quiet conversation that danced around the underlying problem at hand. Breakfast was usually a quiet occurrence of two or three people as Natasha, Steve, and Tony were all on mission. Dinners were always a busier occurrence with Pepper coming to join them for a relaxed meal that Bucky never failed to produce.

Days were spent in quiet solitude for Annabeth as she couldn't bear the thought of spending extended periods of time with her heavily fortified façade placed firmly upon her face and deflecting comments on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she occupied her time carefully analysing complex architectural designs, a go-to that almost never failed to release some tension from her frazzled mind.

However, by the following Monday, Annabeth was ready to tear out all her hair with a spoon she was so frustrated with the never-ending concerned glances she continued to get despite her rather impressive act. That's why, when her alarm pierced the air in the early hours of the cool November morning for school, Annabeth felt the slight sensation of relief. She had somehow been able to sleep the slightest amount last night and was pleasantly surprised to wake up not feeling like the embodiment of Hades. Maybe today would be a good day.

Today was most certainly _not_ a good day, Annabeth decided as she exited her second class of the morning carrying not one, not two, but _three textbooks_ to help her catch up with all that she missed in maths alone. For English, she had gotten three novels to read which Annabeth could already tell would already be absolute murder for her brain without her dyslexia, let alone with. One small mercy was the fact that she had gotten Percy's stepfather for the subject.

When she had first arrived at the classroom, much too early for a teenager in their right mind, Paul had glanced up from his desk in the front of the classroom, face instantly brightening when he saw her small figure. He shuffled his papers to the side and jumped up from his chair, quickly walking over to her to envelope her in one of the biggest hugs she had ever received.

"Annabeth! How are you? It's been too long!" She merely blinked owlishly at him in surprise for several moments before clearing her throat and giving a smile of her own.

"H-hullo, Mr Blofis, how are you? How's Sally?".

If it were at all possible, his eyes softened further as he glanced over her much too small frame in what Annabeth could only describe as a parental frown. "Sally's fine, busy with her writing but good, good. We're both okay, Annabeth."

Without looking up, Annabeth knew that the last statement held more meaning then a simple reply from her question and it took several seconds for her to compose herself before she could glance into his eyes again. "Good, I'm glad to hear it." And she meant it; she really, really did. If anyone deserved happiness, it would be the two of them who emerged from all this the pain, all this treachery of loss, with kind hearts and kinder actions.

The man in front of her shifted slightly from foot to foot, a habit that had slowly become a familiar comfort to her as she began to spend more and more time at their apartment. "You know, Sally misses you. We were quite bummed out when we heard that you had to move away but when I saw your name on the register, well, let's just say we were both pleasantly surprised. You know," he continued without so much as a pause for breath, "you should come over sometime. We hold a monthly dinner with the rest of the seven and some of Percy's other friends just to catch up. The next one's this Friday."

The last time she had seen the Blofis' was days after the war had ended. The camps were still in ruins and it was taking the combined effort of both of the camps just to look after the sheer number of injured demigods. Annabeth remembered being up for days at a time just to try to ensure that no one else would be added to the casualty list. Despite her best efforts, the list had almost doubled by the end of the week.

Although her main focus should have been to help aid the others, a constant, nagging thought had remained in the back of her mind, always dividing her thoughts in uneasy halves. She knew she couldn't take too long to go over and tell Percy's parents the news- they had waited long enough- but it still took her to the end of the week to visit their small apartment.

Just like the last time she visited, during those long months when Percy was missing, the walls were strewn with photos and there was the ever present scent of Sally's cookies. Annabeth didn't realise how dearly she had missed them until stepping inside and being engulphed by two pairs of arms. As nice as it had felt, it had made it that much harder to tell them. She didn't ever think she'd forget the haunted looks that marred their faces.

She forced herself out of her thoughts and raced her face with a smile before replying in a voice that was much too soft for her liking "That would be nice."

By the time the day had ended, Annabeth had a grand total of seven textbooks, three novels and hours of work to do every day for the foreseeable future. Adjusting, her bag straps to release some tension from her shoulders, she sighed exasperatedly before starting her short trek back to the tower.

The scenery of crowds of evening commuters shoving past one another mixed pleasantly with the smells of street food and the shouts of venders trying to sell cheap goods to passers-by.

Annabeth weaved throughout the commotions of NYC expertly, making her way back to the tower in record time. The common room was vacant when she exited the stairs and it was abnormally quiet when she peered into the kitchen to get a snack despite the fact that all of the Avengers were gathered around the table sat in absolute stillness.

Unease started to flow throughout Annabeth, the hairs on her skin flying up like a terrified cat. Something wasn't right. Something was _wrong_.

"Hello?" Despite her alarm, her voice came out clear and strong, her body falling back into her all too familiar tense frame in preparation. "Are you guys alright?"

As she slowly crept towards the group, her unease grew tenfold. Something _just wasn't right_ and as she got closer, she knew exactly why.

They weren't breathing.

Alarm rang through her body and before she could do a single thing, plan a single course of action, a cold, primordial voice pierced through the room. A cold, primordial voice that she was hoping to never hear again. A cold, primordial voice that was so malicious, so malevolent, it had followed her in her nightmares for years.

"Hello Annabeth," Kronos greeted from right behind her back.

 **...I'm sorry. Not really, hehehe.**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Umm... hi, guys! Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that.**

 **Anyways, thank you guys as always for the lovely comments and love, it really makes my day! I really hope you enjoy the chapter!**

Annabeth whirled round to face the vengeful being, her muscles tensing and her hand grasping to reach the dagger in her back pocket. But before she could clamp the smooth and worn hilt and brandish it before her, stormy grey eyes connected with striking gold.

No, no, no! It couldn't be possible. It _shouldn't_ be possible.

And yet, right before her stood Kronos, the Titan of Time in Luke Castellan's body.

He looked almost identical to the last time she saw him alive, the same clothes, the same smirk that half graced his lips, the same aura of power around his body. Nevertheless, the evidence of a battle long since passed were gone; his clothes were no longer ripped, the strange crazed look of a kill upon his eyes was gone and there was no evidence of blood _anywhere_.

But the last time she saw him, Luke's body was beyond repair; the big, gaping hole in the side of his stomach should have been proof of it.

"Long time no see, huh, Annabeth?" His voice was so unlike Luke's; inhospitable and wicked with a touch of detestation mixed in with his seemingly casual words. And yet, at the same time, he was _so like_ the Luke she had witnessed the last year he was still himself, the last year they were still a proper family. The same hatred that was now directed at her had been struck towards the Gods and their negligence. The same strong build and determination that appeared to be fused into his muscles were present. The same weary look rested upon his shoulders that were the only evidence that he had been through hell. No, Annabeth chastised, it's not Luke. The being before hadn't truly been Luke in a long, long time.

"Kronos," her voice matched his completely, fighting his disdain with malice and hatred of her own. "How in Hades are you here?"

A broken, crooked smile that was as dead as the body he was possessing grew. "You didn't think I'd stay gone forever, did you Annabeth?" He took slow, leisurely steps towards her like a confident predator stocking its prey. "Let's just say that I had a little… assistance."

Annabeth frowned at this, shock and confusion swirling together at what he was saying. In reality, her mind was whirling with such intensity, such ferocity, that nothing was really making sense. The only impressionable thing that was surfacing her mind was the overwrought thought of constantly circling words _Protect them. Protect them. Protect them._

"Well, you shouldn't have wasted your time." Her voice was surprisingly steady.

 _Protect them protect them protect them._

"And why's that?"

 _Protectthemprotectthemprotectthem._

"Because I'm going to kill you and send you back right where you belong."

A surprised chuckle escaped Kronos' mouth and for the first in their encounter, it appeared as though he wasn't in complete control. At this thought, a smug smile graced Annabeth's lips as she unsheathed her dagger and stepped forwards.

"Oh Annabeth," Kronos clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "I was merely here to deliver a message but seeing as you have gained some… arrogance, I think I should remind you of where your boyfriend currently resides."

Stone cold waves crashed down throughout her body at that sentence and Annabeth could feel herself swaying. "What do you mean where he is?"

Kronos went to unsheathe his own dagger, gently scraping it along his forearm in a somehow threatening manner. "Let's just say... he's not at peace as you once hoped for. What did you say again? Something about you hoping he would carry happiness for both of you?"

If it was at all possible, Annabeth's heart appeared to stutter more as the room seemed to spin around her in a violent mirage of colour. How how _how_ could he have known what she has said to him in that abandoned field all those months ago when everything was burning around them. How how _how_ could that have at all been possible, unless-

"Oh Annabeth, I really thought you were more observant than that. It appears that I was... wrong" he trailed off with that stupid crooked grin of his. "Despite how much fun this has been, I think I best be off. You know how it is, people to greet and people to kill."

Annabeth's eyebrows furrowed together in alarm at the abrupt turn this conversation was going, quickly stepping forward to stop him. "You're not going anywhere. Frankly, it was stupid of you to come in the first place. We defeated you once," she tried to speak while exuding confidence, taking another carefully analysed step forward. "We can definitely defeat you again."

Kronos' eyes danced with unresolved mirth and pleasure at her words, his smile fissuring further. "Oh, but Annabeth, it took your whole camp to defeat me. Look at you now. You're all alone. And-" Suddenly, he was right in front of her, the glint of his dagger racing towards her torso at a deadly speed. "-weak. You-" a sharp burst of pain burst from her cheek and eye. "can't do anything to stop me."

Annabeth stumbled from the unexpected obtrusion to her face but quickly righted herself to face her opponent. But, when she cracked her eyes back open, he was gone.

"Wh-What?" She stuttered while frantically turning in circles to find him. But it appeared that it wasn't a trick; he had truly vanished.

Slowly, ever so slowly that it was almost like it wasn't happening at all, The Avengers started to move and the sounds of life started to trickle back.

Annabeth, however, appeared to be paralysed in place, her eyes the only thing moving as they feverishly scanned the area.

"Annabeth?" her eyes snapped towards the table to see Bucky and Steve looking at her with squinted eyes as though she were a puzzle they were trying to figure out. She supposed she did appear quite like an enigma, standing there with her bag haphazardly thrown over her shoulder and a stream of blood oozing from her slash to the face. "Are you alright? Why are you bleeding?"

Annabeth scuffled her feet slightly, shifting her bag to relieve some weight. "Yeah, um-" she cleared her throat slightly before continuing "Yeah, there was just a little mishap in chemistry. A beaker exploded."

Clint's face popped from behind the fridge door as he frowned. "You do chemistry?"


End file.
